Authors: Pamela Ditchoff
“I told you they are contrary and evil,” the bones shout, “You must to follow us.”
Rune groans, certain the bones can’t hear, and heaves herself up and after the wayward bones. “The year she was confirmed?” Rune huffs as she catches up.
“Yes, the queen was journeying through our country accompanied by her daughter, the little princess. The girl wore a pretty white dress and on her feet were the loveliest red shoes made from Moroccan leather. From that moment on, nothing in the world was more desirable to Karen than those red shoes. For her confirmation, the old lady took Karen to the finest shoemaker where glass cabinets were filled with elegant shoes and boots. The old woman’s eyes were so poor she could not discern the colors, but Karen did for there sat a pair of red shoes just like the princess wore.”
The shoes stomp up and down, churning up moss and dirt, and the bones stutter, “They were made for the daughter of a Count but they had not fit her proper.” Appeased, the shoes resume weaving throughout the forest in three-quarter rhythm and Rune follows.
“The old woman bought the shoes and Karen wore them to church for her confirmation. Everyone in church stared, and Karen was proud—imagine—when she should be shamed! And while the Bishop laid his hands on her head and spoke of the solemn promise she was about to make, her covenant with God to be a good Christian, Karen was thinking only of her red shoes.”
Rune is thinking of them as well; if she had to stand in a church and make a promise to a Christian god, well, she would simply cross his fingers and lie to get those shoes on her feet and dance in them with Hans.
The shoes dance into a splash of sunlight amongst the trees and Tango, lifting and turning during the dance’s pauses, making the red hue hypnotic and pulsing. Rune watches, drooling like Pavlov’s dog.
“Everyone told the old woman about Karen’s red shoes. Oh, she scolded her and insisted that she wear only black shoes to church. But the very next Sunday, when Karen was to attend communion, she put on these red shoes. At the entrance to the church stood an invalid soldier with a long red beard. He bowed to the old woman and asked permission to wipe the dust from her feet. Karen put her little foot out as well.
What pretty dancing shoes
, he said and tapped the soles.
Remember to stay on her feet for the dance
. Once inside the church, Karen thought of nothing but her red shoes, even while drinking from the golden cup. And not one word of the Lord’s Prayer did she utter, oh the shame,” the bones cry.Again, the shoes hustle close to Rune, rub against her ankles and she leans down to snatch them up when the bones realize the folly in their moment of weakness and lean hard right, jostling and clacking. The shoes take off skipping down a gulley and Rune tumbles after them.
“You were reaching for the shoes,” the bones shout in accusation.
“I wasn’t,” Rune lies, fingers crossed behind her back. “I was trying to push them away.”
“Hmmm, perhaps, but I believe you are giving me a pretty excuse. When I am finished telling you my tale, you will run from this forest never to return.”
“I’m sure of that,” Rune says nodding her large head in earnest. “Please go on.”
“Outside the church, as they were about to climb into the carriage, the soldier said,
Look at those pretty dancing shoes
. His words made Karen take a few dancing steps, and once she had started, she could not stop, but danced around the corner of the church. The coachman ran after her and lifted her off the ground, but her feet kept on dancing in the air. Oh my, after she was put in the carriage, the shoes kicked the poor old woman. Finally the coachman managed to remove the shoes and they were put away in a closet as soon as they returned home.“The old woman grew very ill and doctors said she would not live much longer. She needed careful nursing and constant care, and who but Karen ought to give her this care, after everything the woman had done for her? Pak! There was a great ball in town and Karen was invited. She looked at the old woman, shrugged her shoulders and thought,
She’s going to die anyway
. She put on these devilish shoes and went to the ball.”Rune doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this up. Patience is not one of her virtues and she has been patient all night and into the morning. So, she begins scheming, wracking her brain for a way to capture the shoes and the cross along with them. She follows the shoes in their merry dance, but does not listen to the tale.
“Oh, my yes, she danced at the ball, but when she wanted to dance left, the shoes danced right and when she wanted to dance up the ballroom floor, the shoes danced out the door, down the street, through the city gates and into the dark forest. Terrified, she tried to pull off the shoes, but they had grown fast to her feet and dance she did, over fields in rain and sun, by night and by day, through the graveyard and up to the church. When she tried to dance into the church, an angel blocked her way with his great wings and a broad shining sword. Have you ever seen an angel? Rune, are you listening?”
“What?” Rune raises her head from scheming; “I couldn’t hear you from this far back."
“Angel, have you ever seen an angel?”
Rune is about to answer yes, that she had seen an angel in a field of barley two weeks ago, snatching up a sick child. However, the memory of that sight makes her shudder in her skin, and she answers, “No.”
“I thought not,” the bones murmur. “The angel that barred Karen from the church said to her:
You shall dance in your shoes until you become pale and thin. Dance till the skin on your face turns yellow and clings to your bones as if you were a skeleton. Dance you shall from door to door, and when you pass a house where proud and vain children live, there you shall knock on the door so that they will see you and fear your fate. Dance, you shall dance, dance
!”Rune listens to these words and shudders anew. “A black fly is after me", she lied. “Did she . . . I guess Karen danced to death.”
“No, she did not,” the bones rattled. “Not of dancing. One morning she danced past her old home. The door opened and a coffin decked with flowers was carried out, bearing the old woman who had been so kind to Karen. She felt forsaken by all humanity and cursed by God’s angel."
The Andersen Land philosopher perches on a pine bow and squawks, “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” Rune picks up a pinecone and wings it at the parrot, then catches up to the shoes.
“Karen danced through fields and meadows and forests, nettles and briars tearing her flesh, across a lonely heath where one house stood—the executioner’s house.
Come out, come out, she cried, for I cannot enter, I must dance
. He asked if she knew he was the man who cuts off the heads of evildoers.“
Don’t cut off my head for then I wouldn’t be able to repent, but do cut off my feet
, Karen pleaded. The executioner cut off her feet and these shoes danced away with Karen’s feet into the forest. The executioner carved a pair of wooden feet and a pair of crutches, and taught her the psalm of the penitent. She kissed his hand and went on her way.
Now I have suffered enough because of those red shoes
, Karen thought,
and I shall go to church now and be among other people
.”Rune can’t help it; she has suffered enough too because of those red shoes and the prattling bones within them. She summons her last bit of strength, launches her broad body at the shoes, and lands on top of them. They try to kick beneath her chest, but the struggle of soft Moroccan leather against beast brawn is fruitless. While the bones shout and the shoes squirm, Rune closes her eyes. A goose down quilt, made of the finest eider, floats like an autumn leaf from the sky, between the trees, under branches and lands over the slumbering princess beast.
* * *
“You have permission to lick my toes in gratitude,” Elora says to Croesus, who, since seeing the quilt cover Rune has been whimpering with happiness.
“Much as I hate to burst your bubble, I did not do it out of the kindness of my heart, which has very little kindness within it. The warmer she is, the longer she will sleep and the longer Beauty has to beat her to Copenhagen.”
* * *
“Your daughter is sleeping; she will sleep a long time after dancing all night,” Holger says, leaning over Beauty’s shoulder, watching the mirror. “You need rest.”
“Where do you suppose the quilt came from?” Beauty asks. Her legs give out and Holger slides his arms beneath hers to keep her from falling to the ground.
“I don’t know nothing about that to be sure,” Holger answers and eases to his knees, holding Beauty. “You sleep now—I will wake you in a few hours.”
“No, I couldn’t,” Beauty murmurs. “Just a minute or two . . .”
“I have been sleeping for fifty years; I am happy to be awake and alive. I won’t rest while you sleep, I will keep you safe. We will reach Copenhagen well before your daughter,” Holger says and sits now on the ground, cradling Beauty as her head presses to his chest and she whispers, “Could it have been Elora?”
* * *
“Thank God you are finally awake,” the bones shout. Rune yawns and reaches beneath her chest, grabbing a shoe in each hand. They kick violently as the bones say, “Karen did not suffer enough to be among other people because she was proud of her sacrifice. She went to the church thinking she was just as good as those inside praying with pride. These shoes blocked her way—dancing devilishly at the church door, and Karen limped away on her crutches, filled with terror.”
Rune stands, shrugging the blanket to the ground. She places the writhing shoes in the center of the blanket, and using her teeth, pulls the four corners to the center. In moments, she has the shoes tied in a bundle, the gold cross about her wrist, as her neck is much too large.
“Karen went to the minister’s house and begged for work, insisting on no wages. The minister’s wife took pity on the poor crippled girl who worked hard, and of whom the children were fond. When Sunday came and the family asked her to go with them to church, her eyes filled with tears and she looked at her crutches. When the others had gone,” the bones voice chokes with emotion, “she went to her little room and read her psalm book, and heard the organ music from the church. She whispered, Oh, God, help me!”
“Oh god help
me
," Rune sighs. “I’m not listening,” she says, and launches into
Curl Up into a Ball and the World Can’t Hurt You
, her favorite Hans song.“Sunlight filled the room and an angel of God stood before Karen. He held a rose branch and touched the low ceiling of the room and it rose high into the air and a golden star shone and the walls widened,” the bones shout.
“If the world makes you cry and you think you’re gonna die, curl up in a ball, and you won’t fall,” Rune sings out loud.
“Karen saw the organ, and the minister and the congregation holding their hymn books and singing. Had the church come to her? Had she gone to the church?” the bones shriek their questions. “It was a miracle—someone said that it was good she came, and Karen replied,
This is His mercy
.”“When you don’t feel like talking, cause the world’s a heavy load, curl up in a ball and roll down the road,” Rune bellows.
“The great organ played and the children sang and clear, warm sunshine streamed through the window, filling Karen’s heart till it so swelled with peace and happiness that it broke! And her soul flew on a sunbeam up to God in heaven where no one asks about her red shoes.”
“Curl and roll, curl and roll, roll with the punches, gather up bunches of soul, just curl and roll,” Rune sings to the treetops, and the bones fall silent.
* * *
Beauty is dreaming; she is running down a corridor of the Beasts’ castle, her skirts held high, her bare feet slapping the stone floor. She is laughing. The Beast is chasing her. He catches her when she slows down at the rose garden and they tumble to the ground, rolling in an embrace. With one talon he rips her dress from bodice to hem then falls upon her anew. She digs her fingernails into his broad fur covered back, and Holger moans as Beauty’s talons scrape his back. Beauty grabs hold of the Beast’s ears and pulls his face down into her belly, and Holger groans. Beauty wakes and looks into eyes clear and cold as an alpine lake and she locks her legs around Holger’s hips.
* * *
Within her sleeping chamber, Elora snaps her fingers and the crystal ball turns black. Croesus places his paw on the ball and digs as if trying to break through the surface. Elora thumps his head. “Some decorum, hound, R-E-S-P-E-C-T. I don’t know of anyone who has earned it more than Beauty has.”
Elora stretches, then throws back the covers and steps out of her mahogany sleigh bed. She zaps open the drapes and soft grey light fills the room. “December has arrived,” she says, walking to the balcony windows. She narrows her silver-flecked black eyes, staring into the distance through the light fluffy snowfall. “Looks harmless now, but The North Wind is working up a lather, his cheeks are bigger than Louis Armstrong’s. Beauty and Holger will reach Copenhagen tonight and Rune will arrive at high noon tomorrow. Together, the North Wind and I will blow up a snowstorm to rival the one that brought Beauty and Beast together.